


Bad Feeling

by Grey (grey853)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universes, Angst, M/M, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 01:01:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/Grey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim's nightmares during a case involving an old friend cause concern.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> First published in COME TO YOUR SENSES 15.

## Bad Feeling

by Grey

Author's webpage: <http://grey.ravenshadow.net/>

* * *

Bad Feeling  
by Grey 

Morning light barely trailed through the bedroom window as Jim Ellison rolled over and stifled his groan with a pillow. Bad enough he had freakish senses, but now he couldn't even sleep without some haunting vision, some run through the fucking jungle before meeting up with a ghost warning him about godawful disasters. Incacha died, but still hounded him every night with puzzles and painful questions he didn't want to answer. 

Shivering, he lay there warding off the leftover tremors, the aftertaste of blood coating his tongue, the whimpers and cries still too rich in his ear to quiet. Cold sweat drenched his body, his heart slick with the horrors replaying over in his head, his mind still sluggish to waking. 

God, he hated being ambushed in his own fucking sleep. 

Too tired to fight anymore, he struggled to sit up and dropped his feet to the floor, his whole body suddenly heavy and resistant. He grabbed his robe and headed to take a shower, steam a sure cure for the cobwebs cocooning his aching head. He fought off the terrible dread that lingered, the taunting images he wanted to deny for a little while longer. Dreaming about his best friend as a lover scared him, but not as much as the nightmare of seeing him hurt over and over, his body stretched out and cold night after night. Jesus. 

An involuntary shudder shook him as he started the coffee before going to the bathroom. Passing his partner's room, he automatically scanned the sleeping man's vitals, a steady comfort when waking up one more time with gloomy premonitions screaming for air, starving for recognition. 

He relieved himself and turned on the hot water, warm clouds fogging up the mirror. Climbing in, the rush of heat soaked him, brought his focus to too sensitive skin. The blistering force thrilled him as he soaped up and stroked away at the terrible ache between his legs. God, he stayed hard most of the time now, the want growing like an unruly child begging for attention. Every time he thought of Blair's compact body beneath all that flannel, the dark chest hair, the tight ass begging to be fucked, he throbbed like some horny teenager. He imagined those lips rounded and ready, the tongue licking along his length, pulling back, the suction pure heaven. Too needy to take much effort, only a few pumps sizzled the tight fire that spread through his belly, along his spine, into his center. Release brought spasm and jetting as his knees nearly buckled from pleasure. Leaning forward, relishing the cleansing rinse of the water, he shook his head and wondered how much longer he could stand to not fuck his partner without going truly buttfuck crazy. 

* * *

"You okay, man?" 

"What?" 

"I said are you okay? You look pretty ragged." 

Jim raised his head and opened his eyes, his partner watching him intently from across the kitchen table. "I'm fine. Just a little tired." 

"No kidding." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"It means you haven't been sleeping worth shit lately. Is something bothering you I should know about?" 

Irritation and frustration tag teamed his tongue, his words coming out more harshly than he intended. "Nothing's bothering me, Chief." 

Blair stood up and got the coffee pot, bringing it back to the table to heat the dark liquid already in his cup. "Want some?" 

"Sure." 

He poured and talked, his voice soft and yet determined. "Come on, Jim. I know you. You've been distracted as hell lately and now it's like you're up two or three times every night when you normally sleep straight through. What's going on?" 

Avoiding his partner's stare, he blew across the cup and drank slowly before he finally spoke. "I've been having some bad dreams, that's all." 

"What kind of bad dreams?" 

"Just leave it." 

"Listen..." 

Before he could finish, Jim cut him off, his voice angry. "I don't want to talk about it, Sandburg. Just leave it the fuck alone." 

Standing back, his free hand up in surrender, Blair shook his head. "Whoa, man. Settle down. I just asked because I'm worried." 

A few seconds later, Jim sighed and cleared his throat. "I'm serious. I don't want to talk about it." 

"Don't or can't?" Blair settled in his chair again, his focus never wavering, his whole body tense. 

"I know you mean well, Chief, but it's private. I'm just working through some things, that's all." 

"Work things, personal things, what? Maybe I can help if you'd just let me." 

"You can't help. I just think there's a lot of stuff going on downtown right now and it's dredging up some bad memories." 

Settling back in his chair, Blair nodded as he played with the edge of the napkin. "The Barret case, right?" 

"Yeah." His jaw clenched from the pressure, a tight reign on the desire to explain everything. 

"Jim, maybe you should take yourself off this one. I've had a bad feeling about it from the start. Simon didn't want you on it in the first place." 

"I can handle it." 

"Can you?" Leaning forward, he put his hands together on the table before raising them to his chin. "Just think about it. When did you start having trouble sleeping? The same night you took the case a week ago." 

"I said I can deal with it. Besides, I may be able to finish it soon. Oaks looks good for the killer." 

"That's not the point and you know it." 

"What is the point?" 

"You're having a problem dealing with the fact that Barret, was gay and you didn't know it." 

Startled, Jim shook his head. "No way, Chief. You're way off base here." 

"Am I? 

"I knew Tom was gay. That's not the problem." 

"Really?" 

"Really. He told me when we worked in Vice together." 

"He did?" The surprise rounded his features, his face looking even younger. 

"Yeah. He said he didn't want it to be a problem. And it wasn't. Not then, and certainly not now." 

"Then what is it?" 

Taking a deep breath, the weariness like a persistent hammer pounding at him, he stood up and walked to the counter. He leaned back, crossed his arms and his ankles before he finally spoke, his words as tight as his body. "He was a good man." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah. But everything I'm finding out is so damn sad. This guy was a cop, but had a major drinking problem. He lived alone in a dump, a place that made that rathole you lived in look like a damn palace. How the hell did he manage to keep going day after day and no one notice? I mean, what the hell happened? How did he get to that point without some kind of intervention?" 

"I kind of wondered about that myself." 

"Join the club. When a guy's falling apart like that, you'd think someone would have the balls to step in and try to do something." 

"Maybe they did. You said his captain and partner were worried, but that Barret wouldn't listen." 

"He was like that, stubborn to a fucking fault, I know. But, still, if someone had bothered, maybe he'd still be alive." 

Blair drank his coffee and then finally spoke. "How well did you know Barret? You never talked about him before this." 

"We worked Vice together sometimes and a couple of cases after I came to Major Crimes. We weren't pals or anything, but we'd have a few beers, maybe see a Jags game together. I liked him." 

"And now?" 

"He's dead, so it really doesn't matter." 

"Jim, you're not sleeping, so it must matter for some reason. What's really bothering you about all this?" 

Jim rubbed his face a couple of times, the stabbing pains at his temples more pronounced. "I guess it bothers me that this guy was just so damn unhappy. He wasn't like that when I knew him." 

"And that's what you dream about, Barret being unhappy?" 

He studied his shoes and remained silent, his voice hiding from words that dodged control. 

"Jim?" 

"I don't want to talk about this, Chief." He held back the please on the tip of his tongue. 

Several long moments later, Blair finally spoke, his voice even, but not the least bit happy. "Jim, I'm not a shrink or anything, but could it be that you're projecting yourself into Barret?" 

"Projecting?" 

"Yeah, you know, seeing yourself ending up like him, alone and miserable with no one to turn to but a hustler like Oaks?" 

"I'm not alone, Chief." 

"And you're not Barret, but you're still not sleeping. What are you so afraid to tell me?" 

"I'm not afraid." The anger covered the rising panic of putting into words the fear of loving and losing his partner, the images swelling up, the pleasing caresses tangled with the nasty mesh of pain as Blair suffered without rescue. His dreams swarmed up, pure confusion, the screams and flashes too intense to tame alone. He struggled to keep his breathing even, to control the muscles clenching around his bones. 

"Then what? 

"Why can't you leave this alone?" 

Blair stood, his shoulder braced against the center beam as he kept his voice calm and soothing. "We both know that your dreams aren't always just dreams. You've got this wonderful gift, and if you tell me what's scaring you so much, maybe I can help you understand it. Are you seeing the black jaguar again? Or Incacha?" 

Gripping the counter's edge to both sides of his body, Jim stiffened, every nerve on the verge of firing at once. "Do me a favor." 

"What?" 

"Don't try to analyze this to death, or make a fucking paper out of it. I had some bad dreams. Big fuck. I can handle it." 

Eyes narrowed with hurt, Blair turned away, his voice snapping. "Yeah, I can see that." 

"Blair, listen, as soon as this case is over with, I'll be fine." 

"Right. And maybe if you're lucky, you can repress the whole damn thing and not even remember it ever happened. Jim Ellison back to normal." 

Pulling back from the verbal punch, Jim worked to speak without shouting. "At least I don't have to fucking talk everything to death." 

"No, you're right. Talking would make it too real, too out in the open." 

"You're losing me." 

"Just forget it, man." Blair walked toward the bathroom, the words tossed over his shoulder. "I'm going to take a shower and shave so we can go downtown and hopefully get this case over with." 

Slumping down in the chair, his gut at war with his spine, he shook his head almost too tired to whisper, "Damn it, Chief. You don't understand. I can't let this be real." 

* * *

Eddie Oaks leaned back in his chair, beefy dark arms crossed, wearing a punk attitude like armor. The handsome face turned ugly with the sneer as the young man spoke, his voice raspy. "I told you, man, I want a lawyer." 

"And I told you, you're not under arrest." 

"Like hell, man. You've had me here all fucking morning. What's up with that? Either charge me or let me go." The brown eyes stared, defiant and wary. 

"Tell me about Tom Barret." 

Slamming a fist on the table, Oaks complained, "Shit, man. Find a new question. You've been running that raggedy old shit forever. I done told you I didn't kill the man. Sure, I fucked him, but that ain't putting a gun to his head and pulling the trigger, you know. Not that the son of a bitch had a brain left with all that shit he'd been drinking." 

"He had a problem." 

"No shit, man. Now, how many times do I have to say the same fucking thing? I didn't kill him. You deaf or what?" 

Cop mode on full, Jim leaned forward, his hands fisted together in front of him, his smile calm and sizzling. "I'm not deaf and I'm not stupid. I know you're a hustler, Eddie. So, why are you fucking a cop? Out of the goodness of your heart?" 

The nasty smile turned into a frown as the young man sat back and pushed a little further from the table. "You know how it is, man." 

"Tell me." 

"Man had his ways of getting what he wanted. Didn't always ask nice either." 

"Are you saying Barret was playing you, making you do him for free to lay off?" 

"Didn't say that, did I? Faggot cop can't get it up no more, but still needs it. Son of a bitch takes advantage of some poor fuck on the streets. Ain't unheard of." 

Stomach queasy, Jim nodded, keeping his face neutral and his eyes on Oaks. "No, it's not. Did Barret take advantage of people like that? People like you?" 

"Mother fucker used to get in my face and talk about what all could happen to a pretty piece of ass, like I don't know already, man. Be lying if I said I was sorry the asshole was dead." 

"Did he ever pay you?" 

"Hell, no. True love's free, man." 

"Riiight." 

"It don't matter. Man's dead, but I ain't no killer." 

Taking a deep breath, Jim nodded, realizing from the steady vitals that Oaks told the truth about that. Still, he knew more about Barret than anyone else he'd talked to so far. 

"So, give me a name. Who wanted Barret dead enough to kill him?" 

"I look like a fucking phonebook to you, man? You want a name, look it up." 

Coming up out of his seat, Jim stood next to Oaks before the younger man could even sit up straight or take another deep breath. A strong hand gripped the shoulder as the detective leaned in, his body right next to the hustler's. In a smooth voice, low and threatening, Jim whispered. "I need a name, Oaks. I've got enough to put you away right now as a cop killer. That might win you some favors in prison, but I wouldn't count on staying even close to pretty too much longer." 

"You threatening me, man?" 

"Just laying out the details." Leaning in closer, his voice hissing in the ear, Jim repeated. "I need a name." 

After a long minute, Oaks spoke quietly. "Winters." 

"Winters?" 

"Guy owns the Bulls Bar over on Chelsea. Been talking trash and runnin' his mouth since Barret died. I don't know nothing else, man, and you didn't get the name from me." 

Standing back, his breathing more normal, Jim nodded. "What's his first name?" 

"His name's Blake, but he calls himself Ice. The dude's cold, man. Seriously twisted. I told Barret to watch his ass, but he wouldn't listen. They got into some hassles, but I ain't 'bout all that. Wasn't my business." 

"You say he's been running it. What's he been saying?" 

"Look, man, I ain't in all that. Ask Ice. He ain't shy about nothing." 

"I plan to. Until then, don't be making any traveling plans." 

Snorting, his face back to full punk fashion, he shook his head. "I look like I got wings, man? Can I leave now or what? Man's got to make a living." 

Clenching his jaw, he nodded, motioning for the guard to escort him to the door. "I find out you know something you're not telling, you'll see me again." 

"Yeah, whatever, man." 

Simon Banks entered as soon as Oaks left the room and Blair came in right behind him. The younger man stood near the wall, just watching and remaining quiet, his arms folded in front of his chest. 

"Are you sure you know what you're doing, Jim? I mean, he obviously hated Barret, and what he said could be construed as a motive." 

"I know that, Simon, but as much as I'd like to be through with this whole mess, I really don't think he did it." 

"We've got his prints all over the scene and witnesses who say he had easy access." 

For the first time, Blair's voice interrupted. "He doesn't strike me as violent. Seems to me, if what he says is true, he's more like a victim here than a killer." 

Surprised, Jim studied his partner who still stood with his body closed off and his eyes guarded. "Victim? How do you come up with that, Chief?" 

"I saw his records. The guy's barely eighteen and looks thirty. He's been on the streets since he was fourteen. Probably been abused in more ways than I ever want to let myself imagine. Sounds like a victim to me, man. Add to that, if Barret was extorting sex, well, he's probably used to it. In his mind, there'd be no reason to kill over it." 

Simon looked first at Blair and then at Jim and shrugged. "Kid's got a point." 

"Yeah, he does." 

"Ever thought about being a shrink, Sandburg?" 

Looking pointedly in Jim's direction, he frowned. "Not since this morning." 

"What?" 

"Never mind, sir. Look, I need to run some records on this Winters guy and see what we've got." Rubbing his face with both hands, the weight of exhaustion tugged at his bones. 

"You okay, Jim?" His captain's voice brought his attention back to focus. 

"Yeah, I'm fine." 

Simon's concerned expression tightened. "Jim, this case is a mess. We both know that. The sooner you can end it, the sooner we can all sleep at night." 

Startled, Jim glared first at Blair before looking right back at Simon, his eyes blazing. "What the fuck did he tell you?" 

"Who?" 

"Jim, calm down, man. I didn't say anything." 

Confused, the captain raised a hand, his voice gruff and commanding. "One of you want to tell me what's going on?" 

"Nothing, sir." Still tense, Jim avoided all eyes as he headed for the door. "I've got a name to run and a case to finish. Coming, Chief?" 

"Hold up, detective. You're not going anywhere until I find out what the hell just happened here. What am I missing?" 

For a brief moment, Jim leaned his forehead on the door jam, his breathing nearly painful. "It's private." 

"Private?" 

"As in personal, sir." 

Blair's body stood next to his, the heat intense and distracting. Squeezing his eyes shut to clear them, he then turned to face his captain. "You don't need to worry, Simon. As soon as the case is over, I'll be fine." 

"Jim, this can't be easy. Barret was an old friend and seeing all this now, well, maybe I should take you off the case." 

"I have to disagree with that call. I need to finish this. I need to find out what happened to the man I thought I knew." 

Hands on his hips, Simon met his eyes. "All right. I can understand that." 

"Thank you, sir." 

"Don't thank me yet. To be honest, I don't think I'm doing you any favors." 

Jim nodded and realized once again that the honor of being the Major Crimes pitbull never came easy. 

* * *

Jim sat back in his chair, his hand to his mouth watching his silent partner nibbling at his rice and sipping his tea. The constant rhythm of the heavy rain against the window behind him matched the thumping in his brain. His own food sat untouched, the spices too rich for his edgy senses. After a few more minutes of quiet, he took a deep breath and said the words too thick to stay in his throat any longer. "I'm sorry, Chief." 

"Yeah?" Blair didn't look up, but his eating stopped and he wiped his mouth before drinking again. 

"Yeah." 

Blue eyes met his, the intensity of the hurt slapping his conscience. "I'd never tell Simon about anything private, Jim." 

"I know that. I said I was sorry. I've just been out of it with the case and everything." 

Putting his napkin down, Blair leaned forward, his voice a whisper. "Listen to me. When I asked you before about your dreams, I wasn't just doing it for a cheap thrill. I'm your friend, Jim. I wasn't prying." 

"I know that, too." 

"If you're having some kind of vision that's messing with your senses, making you so irritable, I need to know so I can help. I mean, you trust me, right?" 

"Of course, but this is different." His hands shook beneath the table, the slightest of tremors making their way into his arms. 

"Different how?" 

The words choked him, the fear of saying them out loud as dangerous as blows and bullets. "They're just nightmares." 

"And they scare the shit out of you, obviously." He shifted in his seat and then spoke even more intensely. "I'm going to take a wild stab here, man, and don't go crazy on me if I'm wrong, but are these dreams about me by any chance? Is that why you're afraid to tell me?" 

Blood drained from his skin, the cold like ice on raw flesh in winter. His tongue lay stubborn, but finally he found the force to move it. "There's this stranger. I can't see him at first. He's got you up against a wall, slammed into it. Sometimes it's brick, sometimes stone or wood. It changes. Your face and back are torn up and bleeding and he's still hurting you. I'm running and no matter how fast or hard I try, I can't get any closer." 

"Shit, man." 

He swallowed and cleared his throat before he could speak again. "Every night, ever since this thing began, I've had the same dream over and over." 

"No variations except for the wall?" 

"Yeah, some, but bottom line, you're in danger and I can't save you." 

"Is it the same guy each time?" 

"Yeah." 

"Hell, no wonder you've been out of it. Classic anxiety dream, man. But with you, it's worse because sometimes yours come true." 

He braced himself on the table, his voice determined. "I can't let that happen, Chief." 

"I should fucking hope not, man." The smile warmed his face, the expression like the first sunny day after a long illness. 

Jim still couldn't shake the dread that wrapped his tissues, the lingering whispers of evil. "This isn't funny, Chief." 

"I understand that." He picked up the tea and finished it before he spoke again. "I'm glad you at least told me. That must be really scary to feel so out of control, huh?" 

"Yeah." 

"So, have you ever seen this guy in your dreams before?" 

"Sometimes." 

"What's he look like?" 

It took several moments before he made himself say what he most feared to be the truth. "He looked like me." 

"Shit." 

"Yeah, you could say that." 

* * *

"Don't start the truck yet." 

Jim took his hand away from the key, but protested. "We need to go see Winters." 

"In a minute. I want to hear the rest of it." 

"Rest of it?" 

"That's not the whole dream. Tell me the rest." 

Shaking his head, Jim refused to meet his friend's eyes. "What makes you so sure there's more? Isn't my dreaming of hurting you enough?" 

"Jim, look at me." 

Sighing deeply, his whole body wanting to run, he finally forced himself to turn his head. "What?" 

"You'd never hurt me in real life. I know that. So, if you're dreaming about it, there must be some reason. Something that's going on that's causing you to be afraid of hurting me. I need to know the whole dream to be able to figure out what." 

"What makes you so sure?" His voice came out a shaky whisper, not like his normal voice at all. 

"Because I know you. When something really bothers you, you close off. It's what you've done for days now. Tell me about the rest of it." 

"I'm not talking about why you're so sure about the dream. What makes you so sure I won't hurt you?" 

Blair smiled, his face solid and natural. "Because you're Jim Ellison, my sentinel. Sound corny?" 

"Yeah, a little." 

"Maybe, but it's the truth. You're like programmed to protect me. You couldn't hurt me even if you wanted to." 

"I'd never want to hurt you, Blair." 

"I know that." 

The words spoken in his friend's trusting voice, so full of absolute faith and power, stunned him. For a moment free speech hid away while he fought to control his body. Stinging eyes made it hard to focus on the rain washing his windshield. The commitment those words carried scared him as much as needing that connection. 

"So, tell me the rest of it, man. I'm waiting." 

"You're not going to like it." 

"Probably not, but I won't know until I hear it." 

Biting his lip first, he tried to order his thoughts, to put the words to the fractured images that jumbled like layered flashes in his memories. 

He spoke slowly, then picked up speed, determined to finally finish. "At first I'm running in the jungle, trying to follow the panther. Sometimes I'm dressed as a soldier, sometimes a warrior, and sometimes I'm naked. The heat stifles me, but I keep running. I can hear it all, the buzzing and the birds and I want to keep going forever, but I can't. I stop when I see Incacha." 

"Incacha's there?" 

"Yeah. He's standing in a clearing sometimes and other times he's at the steps of the temple." 

"What's he saying?" 

"He wants to know what I fear and what I live for. He tells me I know the right path, but that I've lost my way. I have to look for the light to find it." 

"The light?" 

"Yeah. That's you, Chief." 

"Me?" Jim glanced over at Blair, who suddenly stared out the window as he juggled the new information. 

"Does that surprise you?" 

"Yeah, I guess. The light, huh?" 

"Yeah." 

"Okay, so then what? How do you find me?" Blair's blue eyes darkened as he listened, his breathing a bit faster, his skin flushed with anticipation. 

"I turn into the panther and follow your scent." 

"Cool, and what happens when you find me?" Embarrassment held his tongue hostage. Covering his mouth, he shook his head. "Come on, man, tell me. It's just a dream. I'm not going to get upset or anything, honest." 

"Trust me, Chief. You don't want to hear this." 

"You're starting to make me crazy here. What is it? Am I like naked or something? Does the panther jump on my ass or what?" 

"Not the panther, no." 

"Not the panther?" Awareness brought Blair's head up and his eyes brightened even more, his grin too wide for his face. "No shit? Jim, are you saying you and I have sex in your dreams?" 

"Don't get too excited, Sandburg. After that, I turn into this stranger and start hurting you." 

The voice beside him softened, the words still strong, but somehow cushioned with caring. "I know. You told me that part. But the loving part, does that feel good when it's happening?" 

Reluctantly, he forced himself to be honest despite the weight of confession. "Yeah, it feels good." 

"Does the hurting me feel the same?" 

"What the fuck kind of question is that?" 

"One I want an answer to. Does it feel good?" 

"Of course not. I hate it. I'm not even in my own body. I'm in another part of the jungle and I hear it, see it at a distance, but I can't stop it." 

"So, it's not really you, but something else you can't control doing the hurting?" 

"It looks like me." 

"But it's NOT you, Jim. 

"I don't know that." 

"I do, and it's not." He patted the shoulder once and pulled back, his face relaxed, but broodingly thoughtful. Twisting a little to sit straight and forward, he nodded, "Okay, man. I think it's time we went to see Winters." 

"What? Just like that? Aren't you even upset about what I said?" 

"You mean about us making love in your dreams?" 

"It doesn't bother you?" 

"I didn't say that. It bothers me that it bothers you, but I don't want to talk about that just yet. I'm not ready." He looked off for a moment, his face suddenly more tense. "Let me process all this and we can talk about it more tonight. I need to work through some things first." 

"Some things?" 

"Yeah, man, some things as in sex with Jim things." 

The idea of Blair's thinking about him in a sexual way, accepting him like that, hardened his cock. He cleared his throat as he fought off his body's rebellion. "You're sure?" 

"Positive." Blair ran his hand through his hair and smiled. "I just wasn't expecting this after all this time." 

"This?" 

"Yeah, man, this. Jim, it's going to be okay. We'll figure out what to do later. Right now, you need to focus on the case while I do some serious thinking." 

"About us?" 

"About magic." 

"Magic?" 

"How to make some dreams come true, man. Magic." 

* * *

Consciousness returned slowly, the swirl of grey like heavy rain during winter. Painful spikes fought through the numbness as he tried to turn over. "Settle down, man. Don't move yet." 

Bringing his right arm up over his eyes, he blocked away the stabbing light growing more intense above him. "Where am I?" 

"In the hospital. You're going to be okay, but, shit, Jim, what the hell were you thinking?" 

A warm hand stroked along his forearm, the gentle fingers teasing against his skin. He choked down air filled with thick white cotton before he spoke. "Couldn't tell you, Chief. What happened?" 

"What do you mean what happened?" The panic in the voice slowed to a hush. "What's the last thing you remember?" 

Clearing his mind of debris, traffic, reports, and interviews, he focused on the face of his partner, the dark curls faint just at the edges. Smiling hurt his face, but he didn't care much. "We were in the truck, talking." 

"The truck? You don't remember going in to see Winters and getting into a brawl that John fucking Wayne would be proud of?" 

Eyes still covered, Jim ignored the angry words and focused on the palm resting over his heart. Taking Blair's hand in his, he lifted it to his mouth and kissed it. "Nope. So, did I win or what?" 

"Shit." Opening his eyes, he saw his friend wipe away moisture from his own cheek, his face strained and tired. 

"I'm sorry, Chief. I really don't remember." 

"I know." Caressing his face, Blair spoke softly, his voice easing through the aching drum roll in his head. "You told me to stay in the truck. Again." 

"And did you?" 

"Hell, no. Damn good thing, too. By the time I got inside, Mr. Macho Jim Ellison had basically backed this guy into a corner and all hell broke loose. You got in a few good punches, man, but his buddies ganged up on you." 

"Feels like it." He silenced a groan, his body protesting even small breathing, much less talking. Forcing words between clenched teeth, he asked, "Did we get Winters?" 

"Yeah, I called Simon for back up a few minutes before I went in. Luckily he had men on the scene almost as fast as he was." 

"Why'd you decide to call? 

"I had this really bad feeling about the whole thing. Lucky I did, too." 

"Yeah, it was." He swallowed again, his throat scratchy, the stretch of his neck painful. Muscles checked in, complaining and starting a mutiny between bones and tendons. Slow breathing helped, but not enough to notice. "So, how'd he get Winters?" 

"He didn't. I cornered his ass and told him if he didn't call off his goons, I'd slit his throat." 

"And he believed you?" 

"With good reason. The knife was fucking sharp, man. It would've been too easy." 

Shocked by his friend's passion, Jim pulled him closer, his whole body shaking in his arms. "It's okay, Blair. I'm okay." 

"I was so scared, Jim. I thought they were going to kill you. God, I feel sick." 

"It's just shock." 

"I know. That's what the doctor and Simon said the first ten times I puked my guts out." 

Stroking the curls back, he whispered, "Settle down, Chief. I'm fine." 

"You're all banged up, but nothing's broken, so yeah, the doctor says you'll be all right. Good thing, too, you bastard. God, I love you." The words vibrated his chest with wonder, his whole body suddenly lighter. 

"I love you, too, Blair." 

"I know." 

The embrace lasted a few more moments before Blair stood up, his hand still inside Jim's, his eyes red and his face too pale and whiskered. "They wanted to keep you overnight, but with Simon's help, I convinced them you'd rest better at home." 

He squeezed the hand as he nodded, "Yeah, I would." Glancing down, he noted the gown and blanket. "So, where are my clothes?" 

"Brown's bringing you some. Yours were a lost cause, man. Goners. Damn shame, too. That leather jacket was hot." 

Smiling, his face stretched against the bruises. "You like me in leather, Chief?" 

Before he could answer, Simon walked into the room, his face clouded both with relief and anger. "Damn it, Jim. What the hell were you thinking?" 

Blair squeezed his hand, but he didn't let go. "Guess I was thinking Winters was just another punk interview." 

Simon stood quietly an extra few moments, his eyes set on the pair of clutching hands resting on Jim's chest. He cleared his throat as he looked first at Blair and then at Jim. Shaking his head, his face suddenly softer, he sighed. "Winters is in lock up. His lawyer wants to make a deal. Seems he and Barret were ex-lovers who didn't part friends. It's an ugly story and to keep it all out of the news, I'm sure the DA will make some kind of bargain. In the meantime, you're on medical leave for at least the next week." 

"Thanks, Captain. Simon, I..." 

He held up a hand in a stop motion. "Don't, Jim. I have eyes. I've seen this coming for awhile now. I hope you two know what you're getting into here. You saw what happened to Barret." 

"It won't be like that, Simon." 

"No, man. Jim's nothing like Barret, and neither am I." 

"I know. But I also know life's not easy." 

"For a gay cop?" Jim tempered his angry impulse with friendship. 

"For any cop. Just take it easy on the public displays and don't put yourself at risk anymore than you have to." 

"We won't Simon. Jim and I won't embarrass you or anything." 

Dark eyes stared into Blair's, his voice rich and as full as Jim knew it could be. "You two loving each other would never embarrass me, Blair. I just don't want you to get hurt. People in this world, well, you know what they can do. Just be careful." 

"Thanks, man." 

"Yeah, Simon, thanks." 

Suddenly in gruff mode again, the captain stood straighter. "I'm going down to see if Brown's here yet." He raised a finger and pointed it accusingly at Jim. "And you just think of a reasonable way to explain this whole not calling for back up mess in your report on Monday. Hear me?" 

"Yes, sir." 

As soon as he left the room, Jim pulled his guide against him, closed his eyes, and whispered, "I'm so tired, Chief." 

"I know. We're going to bed as soon as we get home." 

He couldn't help but smile. "Bed?" 

"To sleep, man." 

His body tightened at the word and Blair pulled away enough to meet his eyes. "Don't worry, Jim. I'm going to make sure all your dreams from now on will be good ones." 

"Promise?" 

"Promise." 

* * *

"Comfy?" Blair sat on the edge of the bed, his face still tense as he smoothed down the yellow and blue sheets. 

"I'm feeling better, yeah." Taking his nervous hand, Jim tugged and brought him to his side. Snuggled into his arms, Blair leaned in, the tension easing. "Now, that's comfy." 

Still dressed in jeans and T-shirt, Blair kicked off his shoes and let them drop beside the bed. He pulled his legs up and curled in closer. The pressure against his bruises hurt, but not enough to make him want to have his friend stop moving. Holding Blair worked better to soothe misery than any pain pill he could imagine. 

"We have to talk, Jim." 

"Does it have to be right now?" He winced, suppressing a groan brought on by the unexpected shift as the younger man sat up, his back braced against the pillow. 

"Yeah, I think it does." 

Seeing the determination, Jim sighed and nodded. "Okay. Where do you want to start?" 

"Dreams. Do you think it would bother you if I slept up here tonight?" 

Shocked by the question, Jim pulled back to focus on the entire picture of the man sitting next to him, the insecurity playing across his features. "Well, I kind of assumed you would." 

"Assumed?" 

Suddenly uncomfortable, Jim used his hands to sit more upright, his body protesting in earnest. "Yeah, after what we said in the hospital, I just sort of thought that you understood that's what I wanted." 

"I want it, too, man, but I think we need to be clear and say things instead of just assuming. Are you okay with that?" 

"Sure, I guess." 

"You guess?" 

"It's just that I don't think we have to discuss every little thing before we actually _do_ it." 

Tilting his head, his eyes focused clearly on Jim as he pondered. "Like what? What would you like to do that you don't want to talk about first?" 

"Well, this for one." Leaning over, he brushed his lips against Blair's, the quick intake of breath pleasing. Tongue tip, sweet and slick, licked against his mouth as the younger man pressed back with vigor. Probing in deeper, the heat swelled and contrasted with the unyielding teeth surrounded by satin smoothness. He swallowed the husky moan and pulled back, desire even stronger. 

"Oh, yeah, man, I see the difference. Doing works better than talking." 

"I think so." 

He ran his fingers along the jawline, the stubble on the skin bracing and rough, like his own, and yet different. A hand captured his as Blair whispered, "Jim, this whole thing feels like it's going too fast. I want you so much, it scares me." 

"Scares you?" Relaxing back against his pillow, he smiled and let Blair keep his hand as he spoke. Confidence in his decision pushed his words, glad to finally be honest. "I thought I was the one who was afraid, Chief." 

"I know, but you're not the only one who dreams scary stuff, man." 

"Like what?" 

"Like sometimes I think about what it would be like to be together, but I've never had that with anyone before. I've got nothing to go by. Mom never stayed with anyone for very long and I guess I just sort of learned that if you didn't expect much in terms of commitment, you didn't set yourself up to be hurt." 

"And you've dreamed about that?" 

"I've dreamed of failing, of being alone, yeah." 

Squeezing his hand, his body yearned for closeness. "We both want the same thing, Chief. I don't want to be alone either." He took a deep breath, trying to frame the confusion with some kind of order. "I think that I dreamed what I did because I've always fucked up before. Seeing all that shit with Barret made me see how easily it could happen." 

"You think that's what triggered your nightmares, the fear that you'd hurt me?" 

"I've done it before with people I said I loved. Don't forget about Carolyn. I was a miserable husband. I'll be the first to admit that. I didn't plan to be, but I didn't know what to do differently. I'm sort of like you, I guess." 

"How?" 

"Well, your mom never stuck with one man and I guess mine never did either. At least your mom took you with her." Blair's hand pressed against him again, his blue eyes dark and sympathetic while he continued to listen. "I might as well have slammed Carolyn against the wall like I did you in the dreams for the pain I caused." 

Blair scooted his butt closer, and sagged against Jim, his hand over his heart. "I love you, Jim. The only way you could hurt me is turn away." 

"That's not going to happen." 

After a long pause and tentative massage of his nipple through his cotton shirt, Blair spoke in a hush. "So, we're both afraid, huh?" 

"Seems like it." 

"What should we do then?" 

Hugging him tighter, Jim rested his chin on the soft curls. "Well, we're already living together." 

"Yeah, that's true." 

"I know how you drop the wet towels on the bathroom floor and forgive you. The grumpy butt mornings are even kind of cute sometimes." 

The smile against his chest grew wider. "And you do the laundry better than anyone I know, even if you do wash things before they really need it." 

"I'm not doing a sniff test on your jeans, Chief. Wear'em once, they get washed. Period." 

"So, I guess what you're really saying is that we've already tested some of the sticking points a lot of people run into when they start a relationship. That part's been tested." 

"Yeah, I guess that's what I'm saying. I just think we trust and love each other already, but we're just not sure about ourselves yet. Why is that?" 

"Maybe because we've fucked up so royally before?" 

"It's a theory." Leaning his head back, he soaked in the warm comfort of holding the man he loved more than anyone or anything in his life. "I guess we just have to jump in and try it, have faith that neither of us would love an asshole and go with that. No way am I giving you up now." 

"Me, neither." 

Closing his eyes, drifting, he whispered, "Let's just sleep together and see what happens." 

"I already know what happens, man." 

"What?" 

"Magic." 

* * *

End

 


End file.
